


(Not So) Alone in a Crowd

by Hufflehobbit_writes



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: After this point, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Magic, Dance Instructor Katsuki Yuuri, Fairy Tale Curses, Falling In Love, Famous Dancer Victor Nikiforov, Hidden Magic, Kid Fic, Kid Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, New York City, Sad Victor Nikiforov, Secret Identity, Tags Contain Spoilers, Temporary Amnesia, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21609814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hufflehobbit_writes/pseuds/Hufflehobbit_writes
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki is a dime-a-dozen dancer living in New York with his roommate Phichit, hoping for his big break and paying the bills as a children's dance instructor. The last thing he ever expected was for his idol Victor Nikiforov to show up at his studio, kid in tow; but that was only the beginning of a long chain of surprises.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 86
Collections: BaconExchange2019, Chaos Collection 2019





	(Not So) Alone in a Crowd

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/gifts).



"Yuuri, have you seen this?!" Phichit didn't even wait for the front door to finish opening before he was waving his phone towards Yuuri's face. "Stammi Vicino's got open auditions coming up!"

Yuuri stared down at his laptop, which was already displaying a photograph of an all-too-familiar lean figure posed artistically, silver hair shining under stage lights, on a jet-black background. Viktor Nikiforov's world-famous dance company was looking for new dancers. An open audition; anyone welcome. There were only a few problems.

"Phichit, you know I can't."

"No, I don't know." Phichit nudged the door closed with his hip and flopped down on the futon next to Yuuri. "The dancer and choreographer of your dreams is recruiting, you don't have any upcoming show commitments unless something surprising has happened since this morning, and it's a fifteen-minute walk away. You don't even need to take the subway." 

Yuuri let his head fall backward until he was staring at the ceiling. "I only have one chance to make a first impression, Phichit, and you _know_ I choke up at auditions. I'm just not ready yet." That was a good enough reason on its own, he didn't need to get into the more embarrassing reasons. Like 'I want Viktor to notice me on stage performing as an equal, not at an audition where I'm begging for his attention'. And then there was the even more embarrassing fantasy Yuuri tried very hard to forget about, where Victor would see Yuuri dancing on stage to his very own choreography and fall madly in love at first sight, but that didn't rise to the level of a _reason_ no matter how much he wanted it to happen, so it didn't count, right? 

Victor Nikiforov had burst onto the dance scene like some kind of shooting star when Yuuri had been an impressionable fifteen, coming out of nowhere and immediately drawing everyone's attention. Yuuri had already fallen in love with dance by then, but it was Victor who led him to make dance his career. Even as the ethereal silver-haired teenager had matured into a ~~sexy~~ handsome, mature man, Yuuri had become more and more intent-- some might say obsessed, but really, obsession implied something _negative_ , and Yuuri's hero-worship was an entirely positive force no matter what some people might say-- on reaching his idol's level. As Viktor's fame grew, pulling dance out of the shadow of musical theatre and back into the popular imagination, so did Yuuri's skills and determination. It was sheer grit and hard work that had gotten him all the way here, to his idol's home base in New York, shiny new BFA in hand. The next step was turning out to be more difficult than he'd hoped, however. Yuuri might have a degree from one of the best dance schools in the world and recommendations from professors, but he didn't _want_ a position in some other dance company, nor did he have the money or contacts to start his own. So here he was, a dime-a-dozen dancer trying for a big break in Manhattan, just like hundreds of other aspiring artists, and getting nowhere.

"This is your _dream_ , Yuuri. You've gotten good parts before,and you've always wanted to dance for Victor, right? You should go for it! Best case you get in, and worst case, you choke up, he forgets you, and you try again next time." Phichit's excitable optimism fit the all-singing-all-dancing character actor to a T, and was usually the highlight of Yuuri's free time, but Yuuri could honestly use a little less of it right now. If there was one thing Phichit didn't get, it was that 'just try again' wasn't something that worked for Yuuri. At all.

"No, worst case is that I make such a fool of myself that I not only earn Victor's contempt, but get blacklisted by all of the reputable choreographers in the country for being an embarrassment to the entire profession, and I end up poor and hungry on the streets regretting my life." Yuuri flopped his head to the side to look at Phichit. "Really, you've been living with me how long and you haven't figured out yet that it can _always_ get worse?"

"You've lived with me this long and haven't figured out that your worst-case scenarios are unrealistic?" 

The contest of wills stretched the silence out awkwardly until Yuuri finally rolled his eyes and sat up, silently conceding defeat, at least for the moment. "So. Didn't you have auditions today? How did those go?"

\------------------- 

"Yuuri!" Minako called to Yuuri from the office as he was on his way to get ready for his 3:30 middle grades ballet class. He backtracked and stuck his head in the door curiously.

"What's up? You're not usually around at this hour."

Minako rolled her eyes. "Yes, well. There was a plumbing issue, and then the landlord called... it's been a pain in the ass today. Be smart and don't run your own studio, the bureaucracy's totally not worth it. Anyway, we got a request in for private lessons, and I think you're the best fit for teaching them. You always do well with the younger kids." She smirked at him. "Among other things."

Yuuri narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Minako smirking was _never_ a good sign. "Like what?"

"Oh, nothing. You'll see. I signed them up in your empty 5 pm slot for their introductory meeting. Don't worry about it."

Yuuri moved into the doorway, leaning against it with his arms crossed just to point out to Minako that she had his _full_ attention. "Minako-sensei, you telling me not to worry just means I need to start. What aren't you telling me?"

Evil-minded woman that she was, Minako just laughed. "It will be fine. The student is young and precocious, and needs a patient teacher. I'm confident in your skills."

This wasn't making Yuuri feel any more reassured, but if Minako was enjoying keeping a secret, he certainly wasn't going to get it out of her in time for his class. He sighed and straightened up. "Well then. I guess I'll find out at five. For now, I'm off to class. I'm sure we'll continue talking about this later." That got another laugh from Minako, which was even less of a good sign.

"I'm sure we will. Have a good class!"

The middle schoolers were, as students went, not his worst; by the time they'd gotten that far, most of the casual students who wanted to be ballerinas because tutus were pretty and they thought dance would be easy had dropped out, which left the students who wanted to be there enough to put up with both the physical pain and the inevitable teasing. Yuuri still wasn't quite sure why ballet was worth teasing someone about, but it wasn't as though the bullies back in Hasetsu had been any different, so he just wrote it off as the way of the world and made sure his students had good opportunities for stress relief. Their enthusiasm, however, combined with teenagers' general lack of sense and impulse control, made for a fairly exhausting teaching experience, and by the time the last of the students drifted out Yuuri had forgotten all about his five o'clock surprise. A brisk knock on the doorframe shook him out of his post-class haze,and he turned away from his fiddling with the stereo, only to freeze in open-mouthed shock.

Victor Nikiforov was standing in the door of his studio, smiling. 

The man looked just as good in street clothes under the studio's cheap imitation-daylight bulbs as he did in costume on stage, which Yuuri thought was really not fair at all. Surely even someone so talented and beautiful ought to have to put up with sleet-soaked shoes or wind-blown hair in Manhattan's chilly urban canyons; even Victor Nikiforov was only human. If Yuuri ever had a chance of seeing him in those vulnerable moments, maybe he'd be a little less terrified of meeting his idol in the flesh.

Like he was right now. Oh hell.

"If you're my five o'clock private lesson, I think I need to object to both the 'younger student' description and the idea that you'd get anything out of the class." That... didn't sound too bad, did it? Yuuri was talking to Victor Nikiforov and managing full sentences. Without much of a filter, but at least his brain had decided to focus on the surreal situation instead of his hero worship. Excellent start.

The silver-haired figure in the doorway laughed, and Yuuri's heart lurched in his chest. He'd watched every interview he could get his hands on, but in person Victor's laugh was as beautiful as the man himself. Yuuri swallowed. _You can do it. Just pretend everything is normal._

"I'm not so sure about getting nothing out of the class, but no, the student is my son. Yuri, come introduce yourself."

A blond child-- seven or eight, if Yuuri was guessing his age correctly-- in leggings and a cat-patterned t-shirt edged around his father's legs. For an elementary school kid, he certainly had teenage attitude and body language down remarkably well; back slouched disrespectfully, arms crossed defensively over his chest, and emerald eyes narrowed in an intense glare. He didn't say anything, and Victor sighed.

"This is Yuri. I promise, he's very nice when he warms up to you." Little Yuri snorted skeptically, which really shouldn't have been nearly as cute as it was. The world-weary attitude was honestly quite funny on a kid so young, and Yuuri bit his lip to keep from laughing; that would certainly not help the situation, if this was how the kid was going to approach class to begin with. "He's a very skilled dancer for his age, and we've had some trouble with group classes being too slow for him, as well as with older kids not appreciating having someone Yuri's age being better than they were. So we're trying private lessons."

Yuuri blinked. "No offense, but Mr. Nikiforov..."

Victor pouted, in an over-exaggerated way that Yuuri _really_ hoped meant that he was trying to be funny and not that he was actually deeply offended by Yuuri's attempted politeness. "Victor, please."

"Oh." Yuuri swallowed. He was not ready to be on a first-name basis with his idol. Not even _close_. But he'd asked... "Um. Victor, you could teach him at least as well as I could. Why come here?"

Apparently this was an offensive enough idea to get little Yuri to break his hostile silence. "Ugh, no. Dad can't teach worth shit. And we'd drive each other crazy." Victor winced, and his next words were hissed out through a stiff, obviously fake smile.

"Yura, _language_ , we've talked about this. I am so sorry, I apologize on my son's behalf."

"What? You're an adult, he's an adult, nobody else is here, so I'm not being a bad influence on other kids, and my cursing isn't going to hurt anybody. Shit shit shit shit shit. See?"

Victor closed his eyes and visibly took several deep breaths before responding. _Oh. I guess I do get to see human Victor today after all. I knew he had a kid, but this was definitely not what I was expecting. Guess he used up all his good luck in life before Yuri was born, huh._ Yuuri couldn't help the way his lips twitched up slightly, but he thought he'd hidden his amusement reasonably well. A raised eyebrow from Yuri suggested it hadn't been entirely unnoticed, and Yuuri winced internally. _Oh, great. Now the kid has decided that you think it's funny when he curses. Which... honestly it is, this is way too cute. And now he's never going to stop, is he. Oh well. Could be the kid who vomited every time she spun too fast. No, no, don't jinx it..._ "As you can see, Yuri requires a... patient teacher. I could never ask anyone to work with him sight unseen, so I hoped we could have an introductory session today and you could decide after that if you were willing to move forward." 

"That makes sense." Yuuri bent down to gingerly offer his hand to the grumpy blond child, hoping it wasn't going to get bitten. _If it does, maybe Victor will take care of you!_ offered the non-useful part of his brain, which Yuuri pointedly ignored. "Hello! My name is Yuuri too, although it's pronounced a little differently. I teach ballet and other dance here. It's nice to meet you."

Yuri stared at the extended hand as though it had personally offended him. "I'm not letting you take _my_ name. I'm calling you something else."

Yuuri stood slowly back up and hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I call my teacher Minako-sensei. Sensei means teacher. So you could call me sensei, or Katsuki-sensei, or Yuuri-sensei if you'd like. Everyone's less formal in America, so I wouldn't normally suggest it, but you're certainly welcome to."

Little Yuri made a harumphing noise. "Teacher, huh? Yeah, ok, I can deal with that. So, Teach, what're we doing today?" He uncrossed his arms and grinned-- although honestly, it looked a bit more like baring his teeth in challenge-- up at the adults, clearly waiting for someone to call him on his mild rebellion. _What a kid. Poor Victor! No wonder he wants somebody to help out. And he's a single parent, too, if I recall correctly._ The best way he'd found to pull the teeth out of this kind of challenge from a teenager was to just ignore it entirely, so Yuuri figured it would probably work just as well on a seven-year-old, right?

"Let's start by figuring out where you are right now. We'll begin with the basics and work from there. So for now, how about you show me first position?"

\-------------------

Yuuri was flopped face-first over their apartment's battered old table, sick to his stomach and regretting the line of brown glass bottles in front of him, when he heard the distinctive click-triple-thump of Phichit arriving home. "Wow. That bad a day, huh? I thought you'd sworn off alcohol after the Wrap Party Hangover of Doom."

Yuuri shifted one hand just enough to give Phichit the finger. "It's root beer, thank you very much. It's the principle of the thing. After this afternoon I _deserve_ beer."

Phichit tossed his bag on its hook and settled on the couch. "So, what's so bad you've had to drown yourself in..." He picked up a bottle to look at it more closely. "Virgil's? Really? That's a bit above our usual budget."

"And today was a bit above my usual... anything." Yuuri sighed and finally sat up. "You won't believe this. _I_ don't believe this. _Victor Nikiforov_ brought his kid in. For dance lessons."

Phichit blinked. "Victor Nikiforov, as in, _the_ Victor Nikiforov?"

"Yup."

"The one on all of your posters."

"That one."

"For dance lessons?" Phichit started grinning. 

"Yup. Private ones, no less."

"So you got to meet him?" The Thai boy's laughter filled the tiny apartment. "Only you, Yuuri, would consider meeting your idol an event so traumatizing you needed to drown your sorrows in sugar."

"Oh, that wasn't the traumatic bit. Well, it was, but let me tell you, that _kid_. I don't know how Victor manages." Yuuri shook his head in sheer disbelieving awe, remembering his-- had it only been an hour, with little Yuri? It certainly felt longer. "I'm beginning to think that the reason Victor's a single parent is because Yuri's other parent decided they just couldn't deal with the kid and dumped him on Victor."

Phichit blinked. "Wait, Victor's kid is named Yuri? That's a hilarious coincidence."

"Yep. I don't even want to think about the nicknames he's going to come up with for me, he's a total hellion of a kid. Seven going on seventeen with a major case of teenage rebellion. Teaching him will be... 'fun'. At the end of the session his father asked how he thought it had gone, and the kid's response was, literally, 'well, I suppose he didn't _completely_ suck'. According to Victor, this is high praise, so they want to come back. And fool that I am, I said yes. What was I thinking?" Yuuri rolled his eyes, wondering just how much he should be cursing his past self for bad decisions.

Phichit leaned back and hummed. "That you'd get to see Victor on the regular? That's got to be worth putting up with an obnoxious kid,right?"

"You're assuming Victor doesn't do something sensible like send a babysitter along. Yuri's got to run through them at a pretty quick pace, given how Victor was talking about dance instructors, but it's New York. _Someone_ will be willing to put up with him for enough money."

Phichit opened his mouth, then closed it again with a snap. "You know what? You can just insert the whole argument about worst-case-scenario thinking here. We've had it enough times, I suspect we can both recite it in our sleep by now." Yuuri stuck his tongue out in response; it was a tacit admission that Phichit was correct both about the conversation and Yuuri's worst-case thinking, but that didn't mean he had to be _polite_ about it. Phichit smirked. "So what I'm hearing is that you're better positioned than ever for either dancing with or dating your dream man. That sounds to me like a reason to celebrate. I call pizza night!"

\--------------

"So tell me, Yuri, what do you want out of these classes?" The small blond boy stared up at Yuuri from his stretch with one lip curled as though he'd instead asked about little Yuri's opinions on the overly-fragrant garbage bag piles that were all too common on the summer sidewalks. Yuuri felt himself flushing under the contemptuous stare, but he hadn't thought it was _that_ weird of a question; he might not normally ask it of a student so young, but Yuri seemed to have much stronger opinions than your average seven-year-old. Or however old he was. Elementary school student, anyway.

"I'm going to be the best dancer ever. Way better than Viktor. I want whatever you can teach me." Yuuri blinked. The kid called his father by his first name? Well, that was none of his business. That ambitious streak seemed useful for teaching purposes, though.

"Well, 'dance' covers a wide range of skills. Your father's dancing is rooted in ballet, but it also incorporates a number of modern, jazz, and folk traditions; it's not inherently either better or worse than, say, traditional ballet, just different. You could be a great dancer in many other ways as well. I'm curious if you had specific things you want to learn. Lots of kids come in wanting to learn how to dance en pointe, for example, because they saw it and fell in love with it; that's not something for beginners, but it gives us something to aim for while building up the basics."

Little Yuri's green eyes narrowed. "What do you know how to do?"

Yuuri blinked. "Well, a lot of things. My primary background is in ballet, but I've done modern, jazz, ballroom, tap, several different varieties of traditional folk dancing... That's really not a good place to start."

"Show me."

Yuuri's eyebrows went up at the confident, demanding tone. _This kid is going to be the worst boss ever when he grows up, isn't he. Or maybe he's just very spoiled._ "Well, I don't have a partner for the ballroom dancing, or the shoes for tap, but... ok, I can do some demonstrations, I suppose." He hadn't completely forgotten his old routines, and he'd been working for the last several weeks on learning Victor's latest choreography, which incorporated a number of styles; it wouldn't take too much tweaking to give little Yuri a demonstration of several schools of dance.

The next twenty minutes were spent showing little Yuri-- and Yuuri needed to be sure not to ever let the kid know he thought of him that way-- the differences between styles and watching the kid's reaction. It was clear that while he was familiar (and unimpressed) with classic ballet and many of the more lyrical modern approaches, the kid was both unfamiliar with and excited by the sharp and varied movements of hip-hop dance and the almost martial jumps and kicks of Russian traditional folk dancing. Yuuri couldn't help but grin, imagining Yuri's face when he got to see a proper sword dance; alas, the most interesting of those took far more than one person. He'd have to find a performance to take the kid to.

...which was getting ahead of himself, wow. He was acting as though he and _Viktor Nikiforov's_ kid had a future together. Obnoxious arrogant kid, too... although when his interest was caught, he suddenly looked his age, enthusiastic and frankly charming. Maybe teaching little Yuri wouldn't be so bad after all?

By the end of their session, Yuuri had taught Yuri a few moves and given him some strength and flexibility exercises to work on at home, in the hopes of keeping the kid focused on long-term goals instead of insisting that Yuuri teach him everything immediately. He was feeling pretty good about their mutual progress, right up until Victor's silver head poked its way through the doorway and brought all of Yuuri's doubts rushing back.

"Hello, Yuuri! Holding up all right? Yura, how was your lesson?"

Yuri rolled his eyes dramatically. "It was a lesson, it went. What did you expect? But _he_ knows how to do _cool_ dancing. You should try it sometime."

Victor's mouth fell open in shocked bewilderment; Yuuri couldn't figure out if the utterly unpolished expression made him want to burst out laughing or sit the man down with a nice reassuring cup of tea. Astonished blue eyes stared at his son, glanced over at Yuuri, then looked back at little Yuri. "I... honestly, I expected you'd have written him off like you did the last dozen tutors. You sound like you actually had... fun?" Victor's tone of voice was as confused as his expression, and Yuuri couldn't help but giggle. Maybe that was all it took to remind Victor that he had an audience; his (gorgeous, tempting) lips twitched up in a half-smirk, and the vivid blue eyes met Yuuri's and widened just enough in apparent humor to call attention to a micro-shrug. It felt like Yuuri had been let in on a secret, even if that secret appeared to be the not-so-unique 'kids, what can you do?' Yuuri told himself that it wasn't personal and he shouldn't be so happy about it, but as usual the rest of Yuuri's mind went ahead and ignored the sensible part.

"I'm not here to have _fun_ , Dad, I'm here to _learn_. Aren't we going home? I have stuff to practice."

"Go ahead and get changed? I'll talk to Yuuri here for a moment and meet you out in the waiting area." Little Yuri stalked off, moving more stiffly than he had during the entire lesson with Yuuri and radiating annoyance; Victor's smirk faded into an all-too-human look of exhaustion. "So Yuuri... How do _you_ think it's going? I know better than to ask if he's behaving himself, but is he at least tolerable? Will it be OK if we keep coming for lessons?"

Yuuri blinked. It almost sounded like _Victor Nikiforov_ was worried about _Yuuri's_ opinion. "Um. He's a handful, but he works really hard? I'm letting him follow his interests instead of doing a standard curriculum, I hope that's ok. He seems to like the more acrobatic kinds of dance, so we'll see where that goes?" Yuuri was babbling-- he'd made plenty of reports to parents before, sure, but never after the second lesson, and never to his idol. He was briefly terrified when Victor closed his eyes-- had Yuuri's report been so terrible Victor couldn't even look at him?-- but the sigh of obvious relief was both reassuring and worrying in itself. Yuuri knew it wasn't any of his business, but.... "Victor? Are you... ok?" 

"What? Oh. Yes." Victor's (vivid, beautiful, entrancing) blue eyes met Yuuri's, and the smile that followed was small but heartwarming. "It's just such a relief to finally find someone who can actually work with Yura. I was beginning to think that he'd never approve of anyone and I'd be back to searching for child psychologists." The small smile brightened. "Thank you for asking, Yuuri. I appreciate it."

Yuuri felt guilty about all of the times he'd wished, vaguely, that Victor had an imperfect life so that Yuuri wouldn't feel quite so far behind. Now that he'd gotten his wish-- not that it was Yuuri's fault, but still-- all he wanted was to take what was clearly an overwhelming burden off of the man. Nobody should look _that_ appreciative just because someone wanted to be sure they were ok. Yuuri couldn't fix Victor's family life, wherever it had gone wrong, but he _could_ give Victor's son dance lessons. It wasn't much, but it was something, and the idea of doing even something so small to help the man who'd inspired him so much made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. And guilty, because being happy for being able to help Victor implied that he was happy Victor needed help, right? No, no, Phichit kept calling him on that logic, he was spiralling again. With effort, Yuuri pulled himself out of his head and back into the moment. 

The surreal, impossible moment where Victor Nikiforov was smiling, quietly and privately, at Yuuri. Panic attacks were definitely on the schedule for later, once that had had time to sink in.

"I'm happy to help." Yuuri's traitorous brain failed to turn on the verbal brakes in time, and Yuuri stumbled on. "And I know it's forward of me, but if there's anything else I can do, Victor, let me know. I'd be happy to." He ducked his head in something between a bow and an attempt to avoid Victor's stare.

Victor's mouth had fallen slightly open. "That's... that's so very kind of you, Yuuri. Thank you." Before Yuuri had a chance to react, Victor reached out and briefly squeezed his shoulder. "We'll see you in a couple of days. Stay well." And then Victor vanished down the hallway, leaving Yuuri staring helplessly after him, stuck in disbelief with one hand hovering over his shoulder where Victor-- _Victor_ \-- had touched him.

\-------

Yuuri had taken advantage of the cancelled afternoon class-- some kind of school holiday?-- to enjoy some solo time in the studio he usually taught in. In the wonderful unaccustomed silence, Yuuri danced to music only he could hear, accompanied by the distant noise of the traffic and the intermittent thunking of the old steam radiator. He was responsible enough to follow his warm-up exercises with his current audition pieces, which still needed polishing, but once he'd had a decent practice session he let himself fall into the kind of spontaneous improvisation that he found most relaxing. Pieces of old choreography, snippets of Victor's old works, movement that came from nothing but Yuuri's need to clear his mind... it would probably look like chaos to someone watching, but it was pure joy to lose himself in movement, letting his body do the thinking while his anxiety-ridden brain took a much-needed break. It wasn't until the soft trilling of his ten-minute-warning alarm that he came back to himself and realized that he hadn't been quite as alone as he'd thought.

Little Yuri-- Yuuri really needed to come up with a better nickname than that, because one of these days he was going to slip up and use it out loud, and that would probably ruin weeks' worth of his hard work earning Yuri's respect-- was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in what for once looked more like thought than anger. The kid was dressed in the sort of animal-print chaos that would look ridiculous on an adult but just looked adorable on a small child; tiger-print leggings, leopard-spot ballet slippers, a loose black-and-white striped top that was probably meant to be a snow tiger rather than a zebra given Yuri's cat-centric tendencies... Yuuri bit his lip to keep from either laughing or saying something unwise about how cute Yuri was. (He'd learned _that_ lesson the hard way. Victor had grounded Yuri for a week afterwards, but that hadn't made his stomped-on toes any less sore. It was a good thing they were still wearing ballet slippers; if Yuri had had tap shoes, Yuuri probably would have ended up having some awkward conversations with both Minako and a doctor.)

"Was that my dad's choreography you were just doing?" 

Yuuri blinked. Given how much contempt Yuri conveyed for his father's dance skills, Yuuri had assumed he wasn't a fan of Victor's work. Apparently not.

"Quite possibly? I'm afraid I don't remember exactly what I was just doing, but I often try to imitate his work, it helps me understand the nuances better."

"You actually like him?"

Yuuri tried very hard not to blush; while yes, he'd had a crush on Victor since the day he first saw him, he barely knew the man himself and he certainly wasn't going to admit to his hopeless crush to the man's kid!

"I like his work. He's a brilliant dancer and choreographer."

"Hmph." Yuuri was expecting a dismissive rant, which was usually what happened when Yuuri made the mistake of bringing up Yuri's father during lessons, but Yuri just proceeded into the studio as if nothing had just happened. "Anyway, I'm early, but you're here too, so we might as well get started. You were going to show me those jumping kicks today, right?"

Yuuri was never going to understand this kid. 

\------

Yuuri was enjoying his after-hours studio practice session, the luminous blue evening sky a joy to dance under after the long dark days of winter, and the everpresent city glow gently illuminating the room without the need for the bright overhead light. It wasn't spring _yet_ , but the weather was turning, and the air was full of latent potential Yuuri couldn't help but turn into motion. He was working through the choreography of one of Victor's pieces from last fall, 'Alone in a Crowd'; he hadn't _quite_ figured out all of the footwork yet, but the piece had grabbed his heart and refused to let go. The critics had talked about the opposing themes of Victor's blue-lit, lonely soloist and the bright, cheerful chorus around him making a brilliant statement on life in the big city or the challenges of being surrounded by the polished and curated social-media portraits of others' lives, but that wasn't how Yuuri read it. To Yuuri, the piece spoke of being an immigrant in a foreign country, where however familiar it might become it was never quite _right_ and you never quite _belonged_ , and of the challenges of living with a dysfunctional brain that pulled you down into darkness while the 'normal' people around you brushed off your pain with platitudes about 'just stop worrying' or 'why not choose to be happy'. He had no idea if he was seeing themes that Victor had meant to put in, but that was the genius of Victor's art; he never spoke publicly about his inspiration or the interpretations of his works, but the vivid choreography made it impossible for the audience to not search for understanding until they found their own meanings. The solo choreography from 'Alone in a Crowd' felt like it was created for Yuuri, a way to dance out the joys and tensions of his daily life and feel like someone out there truly understood him, however false that dream was.

He was standing in the middle of the dim space, eyes closed, arms reaching up for something he hadn't yet identified but was still searching for, when slow applause broke his trance, and he spun around to face the door in shock. The sight of the trio in the doorway, backlit by the bright hallway lights, sent ice down Yuuri's spine. This was Yuuri's private practice time, after all the classes were done for the day! There was no reason at all for Little Yuri and Victor Nikiforov to be there and watching him, unless Minako-- who had her arms folded in front of her chest and a smirk on her face-- had for some reason betrayed him. Victor was the one clapping, but between the shadows and Yuuri's lack of glasses, it was hard to tell whether it was genuine or sarcastic. Yuuri had no idea how to respond, given that the objects of his sudden terror were between him and the exit, so he ended up folding himself into a bow; it was polite-ish, and conveniently hid his face.

"Yuuri! That was amazing!!!" Yuuri wondered how, exactly, Victor managed to make multiple exclamation points audible; that was, somehow, not something he'd expected to be one of Victor's many talents. "Better than my performance! Did you work that out yourself? How have you not auditioned for me before?"

Yuuri blinked and stood up straight, staring at Victor. "I'm sorry, what?"

Little Yuri groaned. "He said you're good, idiot." Yuuri opened his mouth and closed it again, completely unsure of how to respond.

"Well, that's certainly not how I'd have put it, and we're going to have to have another conversation about politeness when we get home, Yura, but that was truly impressive! You'll join my company, right? There are so many things I could do with you!" Minako, behind Victor's shoulder, smirked more, pointed at Yuuri and then gave a thumbs up in a clear signal of 'Don't do anything stupid, Yuuri, say yes'. 

"I. Um." Yuuri suspected he was resembling a hungry fish, opening his mouth and closing it so many times, which couldn't possibly be a good impression to make, but this situation was entirely outside of anything he'd ever imagined. "I, er. I guess?"

Victor clapped his hands together enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his toes. "Wonderful! You'll join us for dinner in celebration, yes? Minako too, I must thank you for helping me find him. And Yura, good catch, you can have whatever you want for dessert tonight. Yuuri, go change and meet us in the lobby, I'll make reservations." Without waiting for a response, Victor turned and herded Little Yuri-- Yura? Could Yuuri call him that safely? He'd have to check-- back towards the studio entrance, Minako following after giving Yuuri an unmistakable glare of 'don't you _dare_ run away'.

Yuuri stared dazedly after them, wondering with slightly hysterical terror what he had just gotten himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> You just know that while Yuuri's busy angsting, Phichit's off to Hamilton auditions in an "Immigrants, we get the job done" t-shirt and zero shame.


End file.
